


Breakdown

by CartoonAlcholic



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, M/M, Magic, Romance, Sad, Self-Assurance, deep, self-awareness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:49:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29990025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CartoonAlcholic/pseuds/CartoonAlcholic
Summary: It was hard to see when your eyes are filled with blur. It was hard to stand straight when you are shivering. It was hard to focus and think when your doubts were pounding in your head. It was hard to breathe when your tears are choking you.After Della's return, no one's the same. It hurts that when everyone is changing, you are still clinging to the hope that somebody's going to stay the same. It hurt the kids, wounding them with expectations and slapping them with the harsh reality that nothing is going to be alright.Some are in denial and remain the same. Some are going with the river, hitting rocks and sticks along the way.  Some try to change but the change was too far from their comfort zone and was scared to go out because they don't want to face the monsters outside of their zone.Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Webby were losing their strength. They were placed in the wrong reality at the wrong time and were forced to battle the shadows on their own because they were too afraid to be seen as weak.The shadows are coming. Who was to tell of what comes next?
Relationships: Dewey/Gosalyn, Huey & Donald, Huey & Lena, Huey/Violet, Louie & Violet, Louie/Boyd, Webby/Lena - Relationship
Kudos: 12





	1. Good Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take note this is my first story in AO3 and I have no clue how to post a decent chapter. Enjoy.

Huey took a breath. He didn't know why he was nervous or what he was doing. All he knew is that he's visiting Uncle Scrooge. But, what for? He didn't know. 

Walking down the familiar hall, he made his way towards Scrooge's office. He knocked and waited for an answer. He stood there in the hall, not moving an inch, staring at the door and waiting for Scrooge to open it or say, "come in." 

While he was waiting, he couldn't help but feel something was wrong. A chill ran down his spine as he felt the temperature drop. He looked below him and saw something black wrapped itself around his leg.

He let out a scream that echoed through the empty hall. He turned around with the thought of its source behind him. But he found nothing. He looked at his foot again and it was normal. Everything was normal. Maybe it was just his imagination. "Come in," Scrooge permitted.

Disregarding the event that happened, Huey opened the door and saw Scrooge facing the wall. He stood tall and intimidating, and Huey suddenly felt small. It was as if the world around him grew bigger while he stayed small. Small Huey.

"What is it, lad?" Scrooge asked, not bothering to face the little duck who came to visit him. What was Huey going to ask again? He forgot. But that didn't stop the words to spill from his mouth as if he just memorized a script. "Do you want to hang out? You know... Just you and me!" Huey requested, his voice peppy and full of hope.

Scrooge was silent, once again. Huey patiently awaited his reply, like a good boy. Scrooge then spoke, "hang out? Why would I want to hang with you?" 

Huey was confused. "What?" he asked. "I said..." Scrooge said, his voice laced with coldness, it made Huey shiver. He turned around and faced Huey, showing him his angry eyes filled with a black substance. Not a single color was reflected. "Why would I want to hang with you?" Scrooge repeated. Huey felt smaller than ever. 

He backed away, his back pressed on the door. "But... But..." Huey stuttered, looking at the tall man that was towering over him. He felt like a child. He felt like a baby. "I'm a good boy..." He answered. 

"Hah! Good boy?!" Scrooge's voice boomed in the small room that felt like it was getting smaller and smaller by the second. He felt like he was suffocating, and Scrooge's mocking voice was not helping. It made it worse. Scrooge pointed his cane at Huey and said, "you are no good boy! You are just a rat living in my house! Eating my food!" 

Scrooge's words hurt. It felt like a million bees are stinging his heart repeatedly. He wanted to cry but he can't. Not here, not now. 

Scrooge's mouth opened and water started to drip from his mouth as he insulted the boy clad in red. As Scrooge said more insults, the pace of the water became faster and faster until it was falling like a waterfall. It filled the room rapidly. Huey tried to open the door, but it won't budge. He was locked inside. Huey kept trying, pushing and pulling the handles of the door, but it will not move. The water rose quickly until it was higher than Huey's waistline. 

As the water rose, Scrooge roared insults and mockery about Huey.

"You dumb pain in the neck!" 

"Stupid rules! Stupid Huey!" 

"Your mom didn't even want you! Why would I want you?"

"Please! Stop!" Huey pleaded as the water lifted him until he could touch the ceiling. The water didn't stop, and neither did Scrooge's insults. 

"The child'll never learn."

"You're a burden!"

"Never'll be a McDuck! Never!" 

Huey took a large breath as the water rose to the ceiling. As the water consumed the room, Huey was left floating. Uncle Scrooge disappeared, but his insults still rung in his head, like a broken tape recorder. 

Huey closed his eyes. He didn't want to hear them. He tried to cover his ears, but it only made it worse. The voices screamed, trying to gain Huey's attention. He tried to tell them to stop but he was underwater. He can't speak. He can barely breathe.

He opened his eyes, but there was nothing but the color blue. Blue of nothingness. He looked up and saw a bright white light. He pushed his limbs and swam up towards the light. What is it? Is it land? 

He kept swimming, but the further he got, the colder it was. Hi limbs started to shake, but he continues odd; his determination overshadowing his fate to die of hyperthermia and/or drowning. 

Something grabbed Huey's ankle, shocking him and halting him from swimming further. He looked down and saw a black tentacle and it started pulling him down. He tried to swim, but he can't pull out from its grip. Without any other action nor choice, he opened his mouth. He screamed for help but his cries were only gurgled as the water entered his body. His eyes blurred as water filled his lungs. With one last breath, he said, "I'm sorry." 

.

.

.

Huey gasped for air. He uncovered his legs with the cloth that was covering him. He was relieved to see nothing out of the ordinary with his lower half. No tentacle, no black markings. Just his legs. He sighed in relief. He looked around, looking for any dark shadow or glowing eyes or big Scrooge but there was nothing. He was just there on his bed in his room with his brothers sleeping below him. 

He sighed again, feeling the relief and exhaustion loom over him. He was tired, but he couldn't sleep. Not anymore after that nightmare. He felt around his bed and felt his sweat from where he slept. He cringed in disgust as he inched away. He looked around his room and found himself gazing out of the window where the sun was starting to shine.

It was a beautiful sight, but somehow, it discouraged Huey. He quietly climbed down from his bed, trying not to wake his brothers. He tiptoed to his closet and took out his outfit for the day which was his signature red shirt and hat. He tiptoed to the doorway and silently exited his room.

There in the halls, the cold morning air rushed in. He shivered and felt a sense of déjà vu. He crept through the halls, trying not to wake the others up as he made his way to the bathroom. There, he washed the icky feeling of sweat.

As the shower poured water on his body, he can't help but feel violated, scared. His mind flashed images of the blue nothingness, his feathers recalling the feeling of the cold water in the depths of the sea, the possibility of not being able to see what was coming or what was happening because you are blinded by your panic. 

He turned the water of the shower a bit hotter, trying to remind himself that he wasn't underwater... He wasn't under cold blue nothingness...

He recalled his dream. He only remembers bits and pieces, but some important fragments stuck with him. Scrooge, drowning, and black tentacles; tentacles that pulled him deeper into the blue abyss until blue faded into black.

Since his first visit to his Uncle Fethry, he felt unease being below a huge body of water for a period of time. He didn't want to tell his family members in fear of spoiling their underwater adventures. All he needed to do was to sit far from the window. 

He sighed, thinking that this was a waste of time. He didn't need to overthink something as irrelevant as a dream. It was just what it was; a dream. 

Huey exited the bathroom with fresh new clothes and non-sticky and non-smelly feathers. He put a smile up front, repeating over and over in his head that it will be a good morning, a good day. But as always, there will always be that little voice in the back of his head, screaming all of his doubts and pointing out the lies he is telling himself. Huey tried his best to ignore the voice as he made his way downstairs to the kitchen. 

He arrived in the kitchen and saw that Mrs. Beakley was already working. "Oh. Good morning, Huey," she greeted which Huey returned with a polite greeting of his own. "You woke up earlier than usual," Bentina commented, "is something on your mind?" 

Huey slightly flinched at the question, but he tried his best to control his body language. "No," he smoothly lied, "everything's fine!" 

Mrs. Beakley knew he was lying, but she didn't press on. "If you say so," she said. "I'll get started on breakfast. You go along now and don't disturb me." Huey nodded obediently and left the room. 

Huey wandered through the familiar halls of the manor, almost memorized by now. Passing by a familiar hall, he stopped and stared at the portrait of Scrooge McDuck sitting in a pile of gold that he rightfully earned through hard work and smarts. That much fame, recognition, and riches is something Huey will never compete with, even if he worked his hardest and solved the trickiest of puzzles. He'll never size up to Scrooge. All he'll ever be is his troublesome nephew. 

"Huey?" Donald's squawk made the red-clad duck broke his train of thought. He turned to see his parental figure in a suit. That was rare. Where was he going?

"What are you doing here so early?" Donald asked as he approached the small duck. Huey rubbed his arm, a nervous habit he recently developed. He replied, "nothing important..." Huey avoided eye contact, which was how Donald knew something was wrong.

Donald sighed. He patted Huey's shoulder and smiled; a smile Huey always seemed comforted by. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me anything," Donald said, "and it's okay for you to tell me what's bothering you. If you have anything that's on your mind, you can tell me." 

Huey was tempted, but he shook his head. He didn't want Uncle Donald to look at him as some helpless child. Does he look at him like that? He doesn't know but he doesn't want him to start. He removed his hand from his shoulder and smiled at his uncle. "It's okay, Uncle Donald," Huey lied, "I'm fine."

"Now, tell me what's the special occasion," Huey quickly changed the topic, gesturing to Donald's new attire. Donald mentally sighed. He can't press Huey when these kinds of matters are brought. He let it slide and will wait until Huey's ready for him. 

"I'm getting a job!" Donald replied enthusiastically, playing along with the duck clad in red. "I thought of making my own money rather than depending on Scrooge. I have Daisy to thank for. She got me this interview," Donald shared, with utmost excitement. Huey felt belittled as his uncle talked about how he will finally have work and how he'll be independent. Will Huey reach that success one day?

"That sounds all exciting, Uncle Donald!" Huey said, being proud of his uncle which is what a good boy is supposed to do. "So, have you had breakfast yet?" Huey asked. 

Donald nodded his head. "My interview is at 9," Donald informed. "Then you should get going!" Huey urged as he dragged his uncle to the door. 

"Bye, Uncle Donald! Good luck!" Huey said as he waved goodbye to the car that was exiting McDuck Manor. 

Huey watched as the car left his sight. Uncle Donald's doing something with his life and he wasn't. He's just sitting here in the manor, lazing around and being a "bossy know-it-all" to his brothers. He needs to find something to do. He'll start with something simple. But what could Huey do that Mrs. Beakley will permit?


	2. Not A Game

Dewey stretched his arms, yawning awake. His left hand made its way to his right shoulder, pressing it and having the faint feeling of pain. He didn't know why. Maybe he slept on the wrong side of the bed? Cramps, possibly. "I'll just walk it out," he thought.

He crawled to the side of his bed and slid down on the ladder to the bottom. He glanced at his brother clad in green. He's still lying there, asleep. He pulled the green blanket up to Louie's shoulder and smiled as his brother nuzzled into the warm covers. 

Satisfied, Dewey exited his bedroom and closed the door, quietly for his little brother to continue sleeping.

Dewey walked through the familiar halls, humming a song he showed Webby yesterday. He occasionally reached to rub his shoulder, still feeling the ache ever since he woke up. He is wondering when it'll go away.

Just out of the corner of his eye, he saw a silhouette running through the halls, accompanied by a child's laughter. It was feminine and familiar. Wait, was it...

"Mom?" Dewey questioned, running after the silhouette. After Della's return, he spent most of his time with her; getting to know her, knowing about her adventures, and getting in trouble with her. Out of all his siblings, he is the one who easily adjusted to her, and he knows it. He tried and helped his siblings adjust too, but they said that he's being pushy. So he stopped.

He ended in front of the staircase. He doesn't see any sign of Della going down or continuing forward. His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of vacuuming.

Dewey looked below the staircase and saw his brother, vacuuming the red carpet. "Hey, Huey," He greeted, descending the stairs as he approached his brother. "Have you seen mom?" he asked.

Huey turned the vacuum off and looked at his brother. "No," He responded, "I think she's still asleep."

"What? Asleep?" Dewey repeated. "No, I saw her... She was..."

"She was what?" Huey asked, interested in what Dewey is about to say.

Dewey couldn't talk. There is something behind Huey, something on the wall that was mesmerizing him. Huey was about to turn around and see what was so interesting, but then Dewey said, "Watch out!" and pounced on his brother, pinning him to the floor.

Huey scanned around in a panic, looking for a crashed window, burnt cloth, broken wall, anything that might signify chaos. But nothing. Everything seemed normal. He then made up the conclusion of Dewey messing with him again.

"Ugh, Dewey get off of me," Huey grunted, shoving his brother off of him. He dusted himself and picked the vacuum up. "I'm not really in the mood for your games, Dewey," Huey said with a scowl on his face, "If you want to play, go find Webby or Launchpad." He left, leaving Dewey confused about what he did wrong.

Games? Dewey wasn't playing any games. He saw something. Something that wanted to grab Huey. He was saving him! It wasn't a game. Dewey scowled. Fine, if his brother didn't want to be helped, then he won't bother when Huey starts to call him for help.

Dewey grunted as a jolt of pain came from his shoulder. "Ugh, where is this coming from?" He asked himself as he made his way to find Webby.

.

.

.

Mrs. Beakley called saying that the breakfast was ready. Dewey and Webby pause their video game and quickly went down to the table. Dewey sat beside Huey and Louie as the family gathered.

Della entered, yawning and stretching her arms. "Morning!" she greeted as she sat at Scrooge's left. "You just woke up?" Dewey asked.

Della looked at her son in confusion. "Well, yeah. Why do you ask?" she replied. Dewey was confused. That can't be right. He saw her, he heard her. Was he imagining things? "Just... Asking..." Dewey replied, unsure how to say, "I saw you walking around this morning and heard you talking and I swear I am not crazy."

Huey looked at his brother in confusion. Was he still trying to play this game? What is he even trying to prove? Huey mentally sighed and let this one slide. But if he notices something else is wrong, he'll confront Dewey about it.

.

.

.

At school, Dewey is more nervous than usual. Every once in a while, he would reach and massage his right shoulder, still having the ache of when he first woke up. It's annoying and it's getting in the way of his gym class.

He's in History Class, playing with a pencil to keep him from sleeping. He tried to ignore the ache that was growing on his shoulder and focused on something else.

As the teacher was talking, Dewey saw something crawl on the floor. He followed the figure with his eyes, muting out the rest of the world as he focused on that one shadow. He saw that it was heading towards Louie, his brother, seating a few seats away from him. The shadow formed into some sort of creature that had claws and was about to snatch Louie's shadow's head. Out of panic, Dewey jumped out of his seat and began to chase the shadow to the front of the classroom. "Dewford Duck!" his teacher exclaimed but he was too busy battling with the shadow figure to notice him.

He could touch it and it could touch him. Really, that slap hurt.

The shadow ran out of the classroom, slipping below the door and out of Dewey's sight. Dewey was about to chase it out of the classroom, but the teacher grabbed the back of his shirt and lifted him off from his feet.

"Dewford Duck!" he yelled. Dewey winced at the volume of his voice so close to his ear. "You are to not disturb my class! If you wish to play then do it in break time!" his teacher yelled, humiliating Dewey in front of his class.

"But, I'm not-" Dewey tried to reason, but was cut when his teacher screamed, "Silence!"

Dewey looked at his brothers for help. Louie was hiding under his hoodie, making sure he can't have eye contact with his brother. He was embarrassed by him. Huey glared at the duck clad in blue. He shook his head in disapproval and raised a book to cover his face. He disapproves of his little brother. "You will have a lot to think about in detention!" his teacher said, putting the young duck down. Dewey reached out and rubbed the ache in his shoulder as the pain grew stronger, but he didn't mind it anymore. It was nothing compared to the hurt and disapproval he felt when his brothers didn't even bother to help him. I mean, how could they? They don't know what he was doing. He doesn't even know himself at this point.

.

.

.

Sitting in detention, Dewey lowered his head as he sat in detention with some troubled kids who were minding their own business. Dewey thought, "What is wrong with me?" I mean, seeing shadows and feeling their attacks aren't normal. Something was going on but Dewey can't figure it out without looking crazy in front of his siblings and/or his family.

The embarrassment he gave Louie during class... He was shaming his own family with his odd actions. It wasn't Louie's fault, it was his. The disapproval of Huey... Why, isn't he just so perfect that he needed to look down on Dewey? Though, he can't blame him. Dewey's a disappointment.

"Aah!" Dewey yelped as a jolt of pain stung his shoulder. It was shocking and sudden, like a bee. "Shh..." The teacher monitoring the classroom said, frowning at the duck clad in blue.

Dewey scowled at the teacher as she returned to her magazine. Muttering insults, he massaged his shoulder and went back to rest.

.

.

.

He walked back home, alone. His brothers already left to do their after school activities, leaving him to walk alone. He's thinking of how he is having the worst day ever. He's hallucinating shadows, feeling imaginary pain, got detention, and this annoying ache on his shoulder! Agh! He wishes this day would just end!

He kicked a pebble, making it fly and land on the road. He sighed as he continued to walk.

"Psst," someone called. Dewey turned his head to see the shadow from before. The shadow of the little pebble formed into a silhouette of someone familiar to him. "Having trouble, Dewford?" the shadow asked.

Now Dewey knows he's crazy. Shadows terrorizing him is one thing but hearing shadows talk is another. "Nerp," he said as he turned and began to walk again.

He heard the shadow giggle, and he can't help but look back at it. "Why? Scared of little ol' me?" it teased. Dewey scowled at the shadow and replied, "I'm not scared of you, because you are just a figment of my imagination! You are not real!"

"Not real?" the shadow repeated. "Then I guess I couldn't do this." With one swift move, the shadow slapped Dewey's cheek, leaving a stinging cheek. "Or this." It did it again on his other cheek. "Or this. Or this. Or th-"

"Alright, I get it!" Dewey said as he shielded both of his reddening cheeks from the shadow. "What exactly do you want from me?" He asked, but was received with no reply. He looked around, trying to find the shadow that had been terrorizing him all day. "Hello?" he called, but still no answer.

His eyes then landed on the pebble in the middle of the road. Looking left and right and seeing and no cars, he walked towards the pebble and then picked it up. He examined it, looking for any sign of a magical artifact of some sort.

A sound of honking interrupted Dewey's train of thought as a car came closer and closer to the boy. Having no time to react, he ducked. 

He wrapped his arms around his head as if to protect it from an upcoming impact. The tires screeched on the road as the car pulled to a sudden stop. Dewey peeked and saw the bumper of the car in front of him.

Two males exited the car in a hurry and quickly bent to take a look at Dewey. Worry is evident on their faces and Dewey was a bit flattered. They looked familiar but Dewey couldn't point out where he had seen them before.

"Are you alright?" one of them asked. Dewey looked at them for a while, still trying to figure out the puzzle piece of who they are. "Y-yeah... I'm good..." he stuttered.

Both males sighed in relief and smiled at the boy. "Maybe we should take you to the hospital, just in case," the other one said as he helped Dewey stand up. "No, really," Dewey said, walking back from the two men a few feet away, "I'm perfectly fine."

"Dewford? What are you doing here?" Dewey turned around and found himself facing Violet, Webby's friend, "Oh, hey Violet," Dewey greeted, waving his hand awkwardly.

"Oh, a friend of yours, Violet?" one asked, stepping forward and putting his arm around the young girl, "He is my friend's other friend, Dewford Duck," Violet replied. She faced Dewey and introduced Indy and Ty as her parents.

"Nice to formally meet you, Mr. and Mr. Sabrewings," Dewey said, shaking both of the two's offered hands.

"Yeah, sorry about before," Ty apologized as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Why don't we get you a ride home?" he offered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do NOT know how to operate AO3 and this is basically my beta story. But I hope you enjoyed.


	3. Hurt

The moment Della appeared in front of Scrooge's door, Louie knew exactly who she was, but he was never sure. His mom was dead. That was not his mom. But when she came to him, a surge of emotions burst through him and he could not help but cry. This was his mom. But...It doesn't feel right. Louie lied on his bed, silently scrolling through his phone in the dark. Looking through his social media, he viewed as he saw his friends have the time of their lives with their parents. Boyd was on the pier with the Drakes. So many happy family pictures.

"They look like a perfectly happy family," Louie thought, forcing a smile on his lips to be happy for his friend. "I'm happy for them." He lied. He isn't happy, he's jealous. He's so jealous that his friend has this mean Cinderella-like life and yet, Boyd still finds so much... happiness. Louie didn't have an evil step-brother. Louie didn't have a dad that disowned him. He had an awesome rich family with awesome siblings, amazing uncles, and a happy mom. Mom?

"You never had one in 13 years. Why should you have one now?" the voice taunted, trying to get a reaction from the young teen laying there, starring pictures on his phone. Louie gritted his teeth and didn't reply to the voice and kept scrolling.

"You took off in that contraption without thinking of the consequences or the people you would hurt!"

Della's voice suddenly called, he knew for once she wasn't here but it felt so real. Louie's eyes widened as he set his phone down and covered his ear with his pillow. "Go away, go away, go away..." he repeated, already feeling the hot tears slowly drip from his eyes as he faced the wall.

"Louie Inc is done!"

"Please..." Louie begged, "Please stop..." his grip on his pillows tightened and he closed his eyes shut.

Ever since the Timephoon incident, he kept hearing Della's voice, repeating her phrases like a broken recorder. Everything was fine now, he thought. All is forgiven, he thought. But why won't these voices stop?

It hurts. It's tiring. His head is pounding with flashbacks, and at the same time, he's trying to suppress it. He's trying to suppress everything that has happened.

"If you want to be part of this family, you gotta stop."

Silence. After that phrase, the room was silent. Was it over? Is it gone?

He was alone now. In this dark room.

Louie could still feel the pounding in his chest. It hurts, even after Della's voice stopped. He gripped on the spot where his heart was pounding so rapidly, trying to make it stop, but the more he demanded, the more it seemed to beat.

Louie let out a choked sob. He didn't know where these tears were coming from, but he knew that it hurt. It hurt to be like this. It hurt to be him. Sometimes, he just wants to be invisible and never come back.

He felt a sudden chill as a single thought came into his mind, "I'm wrong."

He cried into his pillow, muffling the sounds of his sobs. That single sentence was laced with many more phrases and words that were being nailed into Louie's head the second his mother arrived.

"I'm at fault. Lazy. Stupid. Lame. Never good enough. Never right. Always the one to blame. Always the one to mess up. Burden."

Ding!

Louie looked to his side where his phone lit up, alerting him of a message. He swallowed the rest of his tears and weakly reached out for his phone.

"Violet," his lock screen read. Louie's mind went blank as he stared at the name. He doesn't know what to do because his brain was unable to process things right now. He forced his fingers to act. Entering his password, he looked at her message.

"Greetings Llewellyn. How are you?"

He stared at it, contemplating how to answer. Ignoring his breakdown from earlier, he answered, "I'm fine."

"Great. Would you like to meet?"

.

.

.

The little bell jingled as Louie entered the small coffee shop. The sound of the shop's music and the smell of brewed coffee made Louie's muscles relax. He was nervous because he didn't want to tell the hummingbird about his mini-breakdown a few hours ago.

Looking to the left, Louie saw the young Violet Sabrewing on her usual spot, casually reading a book with a cup of tea in front of her. Despite the casual pose, Louie knew there was a storm going inside of the hummingbird's mind. If there wasn't, she wouldn't have called him for a meet-up.

He casually strolled down the shop and sat in front of Violet, acknowledging the drink she ordered for him. A strawberry and a chocolate smoothie with extra whip cream. Louie smiled as he took the drink sipped, satisfied with the flavors mixing in his mouth.

Violet put down her book and stared at Louie. He put his drink aside and nodded at the young girl, acknowledging her presence. It was just a simple action but Violet's lips twisted into a small smile. She took a sip of her tea and then looked at Louie again.

"How are you, Llewellyn?" she asked.

Louie reached out for his drink again, but instead of sipping on it, he began to play with the straw. "Peachy," he replied. "You?"

"Lena's going with us in our back-to-school family retreat," Violet answered in her regular monotone voice, but Louie knew deep down that Violet was somehow upset.

"I am very happy that Lena is now part of our family, but I still am adjusting to... well, everything. It feels like she is invading my life and taking away my parents but I know she isn't. She is just herself and I feel like I should be happy about that, but at the same time, I could not." Louie listened as Violet ranted. He knew how she felt all too well.

Someone fitting into their family like a perfect puzzle piece while they were trying to find out where they fit in. It seemed so unfair, but it wasn't. Nothing's wrong and it just seems like they were making a big deal out of this.

Violet sighed and drank her tea. She looked at Louie and asked, "What course of action should you think I should do?"

Of course, having the same problem with Della, Violet would want to ask Louie for help. Louie took a sip of his drink and then replied, "Go with the flow. I usually just show them that I'm not bothered and they'll leave me alone. They're going to carry on and act as if nothing's wrong."

Violet stayed quiet. Louie awaited her response, sipping on his drink as he was. She looked up at the duck clad in green and nodded.

No words were exchanged between the two as they peacefully drank their perspective drinks, respecting the silence. They both knew that they had storms that are incredibly similar but different. They are there for each other but they do not interfere with the other. They comfort each other, not with words, but with silence. Their bond is something no one can understand. Possibly, not even them.

Violet looked at the young duck in front of her, studying his movement and his pace on drinking. "Llewelyn," she called, breaking the silence between the two and pulling Louie back from the depths of his mind, "how are you?"

Louie silently sighed as he put his drink on the table. "I am not fine." The honesty was spat out of Louie's mouth. He could never admit it to anyone, so telling this to Violet was uncomfortable, yet comforting.

Violet sat quietly, her hands intertwined with each other, and was ready to listen.

Louie let out another sigh as he forced himself to push out the words from his throat.

"I feel hurt."


End file.
